Close Shave
by prepare4trouble
Summary: Inspired by Kanan's new look in the trailer. Kanan cuts his hair and beard, the rest of the crew are... not impressed.
1. A Close Shave

_Inspired by Kanan's new look in the recently released trailer._

Close Shave

His hair was on the ground. Still contained inside the band he had used for years to tie it back, it lay discarded at his feet. His neck itched and tickled where he had cut the newly shorter hair shorter still and it had fallen away, getting stuck inside his clothing. He had carefully pulled locks of hair out away from his face before slicing through it with the knife and allowing it to fall where it may. It had pulled a little; the blade too blunt for haircutting. He didn't mind, he had endured worse.

The beard had been more difficult. A close shave was impossible given the equipment. Not only that, but this was the first time he had even attempted to shave without his sight. He had trimmed the beard that he had allowed to grow in the wake of Malachor, carefully tracing the ends with his fingers and cutting millimeters at a time, but he hadn't so much as touched a razor since before he had lost his sight.

Not that he was using a razor now.

He was beginning to think that this might have been a mistake.

Too late to do anything about it now though, he was committed to it. He dragged the blade across dry, unprepared skin, almost glad that he wouldn't have to look at the result.

His hair was on the ground. The ponytail that he had spent years growing, that had become his disguise, a way to distance himself from Caleb, from the boy that he had been.

He wasn't hiding anymore.

He knelt down and picked up the ponytail. It felt surprisingly heavy in his hand, his head felt oddly light, like a burden had been lifted. With his free hand, he carefully ran his fingers through his new, shorter locks.

After they rescued Hera, he was going to be in a lot of trouble.

* * *

He had anticipated the response he was going to get when he emerged from the cave and showed the rest of the crew what he had done. What he hadn't anticipated was how nervous he was going to feel beforehand. Kanan raised a hand to his head and touched the hair again. It wasn't completely even, he could tell that by touch. If he had more time, and either a sharper blade or perhaps a razor blade or a pair of scissors, he would have been able to do a better job. It still felt right though.

The air moved around his ears in a way he remembered from his youth; it was strange, like stepping back in time, like he was Caleb Dume again. And maybe he was, in a way. Little by little, he had cast off the disguise he had hidden behind for so many years. He was becoming the Jedi he had always been supposed to be.

He took a deep breath and allowed the ponytail still clutched in his hand to drop from his fingers, discarded.

Time to face the music.

* * *

The silence that greeted him when he stepped outside to face the rest of the crew was so absolute that he actually needed to reach out with the Force to check that they were actually there, that he hadn't imagined their presence. He smiled, trying not to appear nervous. "Is it that good?" he asked.

"Kanan, what…" Ezra stopped before finishing the thought.

Kanan brushed at his neck with his hands, still trying to remove stray hairs from his clothing. "Long story," he said. "I'll tell you about it another time."

"Right," Ezra said, sounding a little unsure. "Well, on the bright side, you don't look anything like your wanted poster anymore. The Empire'll be looking for Kanan Jarrus, Jedi Knight, not some crazy guy that cuts his own hair in the dark with a blunt knife."

"Ezra!" Sabine admonished, quick and quietly, most likely accompanied by an elbow to the ribs.

"Not like he had a lot of choice about doing it in the dark," Zeb added.

Ezra hesitated, then sucked in a nervous breath. "Okay, but you'll notice he's not denying 'crazy guy' or 'with a blunt knife'?"

"Shut up," Sabine told him.

Kanan reached up and touched his head. He had a feeling he was going to be doing that a lot over the next few days, assuming he survived what was to come. This was going to take a lot of getting used to. Just as long as he didn't go back to his old tell, the one that had seen him tie up his hair for the first time all those years ago.

"It's not _that_ bad, is it?" he asked.

The response was a stream of mechanical laughter from Chopper. The clang of a boot on metal followed, and silence descended again.

"You do realize that if we survive the rescue attempt, Hera's going to murder you, don't you?" Zeb asked.

Kanan frowned, and folded his arms to prevent himself from touching his hair again. Maybe he shouldn't have done this now. Maybe it was going to be too much of a distraction when they needed their heads in the game. He was certainly distracted, by the feeling of the wind around his head, moving his hair in a way that he hadn't felt in years.

"We're dreaming, right?" Ezra asked. "I mean, it's some kind of mass hallucination, or I'm having a Force vision, or something?"

"Shut up, Ezra," Sabine said again. She stepped forward and grabbed Kanan by the arm. "You, come with me," she said. "I know we have to rescue Hera, but there's no way I'm going to let you do it looking like that."

Kanan shook his head. "Is it really that bad?" he asked.

Sabine hesitated. "Uh, no," she told him. "Of course not. It's great. I'm just going to neaten it up a bit, okay? And then it'll grow back."

Kanan sighed, but followed her away from the rest of the group.

"Zeb's right, you know," Sabine said when they were out of earshot. "I'm going to do my best, but you'd better make sure Hera knows it wasn't my idea, I'm just working with what I've got."

Kanan grimaced. "I'll make sure you don't get the blame. Just do what you can, okay?"

He was definitely going to be in trouble when this was done.


	2. Touching the Past

_Another short 'Kanan's hair' ficlet. I'm obviously never going to be able to let this go, am I?_

* * *

Touching the Past

Kanan brushed a hand through his hair. It felt strange, at the same time both familiar and not. Like touching the past. He wasn't sure how he felt about it yet. At the time it had felt like the right thing to do, now, he wasn't so sure.

It would help if he could see it for himself. The reactions of people who had seen it so far were… not encouraging.

Well, like Sabine had told him, it would grow back. He could cast off Caleb once again, if he chose to do so.

"What's wrong?"

He turned instinctively at the sound of Hera's voice, not really expecting to see her, but lost enough in the past that there was a hint of surprise at the nothing before his eyes. Caleb wasn't used to darkness, he had always hated being unable to see; even in training, he had found it restrictive and frustrating.

But he wasn't Caleb. Not any more than he had been yesterday, or the day before.

"Kanan?"

Hera was closer now. She sat down beside him on the ground, so close that they were almost touching, but she didn't touch. Not yet. She was keeping her distance, making sure he was okay.

He shook his head. "It's nothing. Just…" He forced his hand to move down, away from his hair. He didn't want to go back to old habits. "Do you really hate it?"

He heard Hera breathe a laugh, something between amusement, and relief that it wasn't something worse that was preying on his mind. "Sorry about that," she told him. "Hate might have been a strong word. It was a surprise. It's… different."

He smiled at that, a little awkwardly, and found himself running his fingers through the short strands one more time. Hera had never known Caleb Dume. She had known of his existence, but the two of them had never met; would never meet. "It's who I used to be," he said softly. "Who I was supposed to be."

"Caleb," she said. Her voice was barely a whisper.

"But I'm not him," he assured her. "It's still me. He might be a little closer to the surface right now, but that's all." He hesitated. "Is that okay?"

She reached out slowly and brushed a hand across the smooth skin of his face, then up, into the shortest part of his hair. Sabine had done a good job neatening it up for him, he had spent enough time exploring it with his hands to know that it was neat and even. He itched to ask what it looked like, but there was no point; no answer anybody could give would be sufficient, he would have to content himself with his imagination.

"You look so much younger," Hera told him.

"Hey, are you telling me I looked old?"

She laughed and continued to move her hand through his hair, her fingers closing among the short strands, tugging them into parallel rows on the top of his head. It felt strange. She had run her fingers through his hair before, when it was long, playing with it, or teasing out tangles as they lay sleepily side by side at the end of a long day. This wasn't like that; it felt good, but in a new way.

"I think I could get used to it," she told him eventually.

It was strange, but he hadn't realized how badly he needed to hear that until she said the words. He smiled again, feeling happier and more at peace than he had in years. It wouldn't last; it never did. That didn't matter. In this one moment, they were together, and everything was right with the world.

"Anyway," he said, as casually as he could, "it's only hair, right? Maybe I should commit to this thing completely, shave it all off."

Hera's fingers stopped moving over his scalp and he sensed a mixture of horror and amusement from her. "I know you're joking," she told him, "but if you even think that again, I'm going to have Sabine dye it orange while you sleep and make sure nobody tells you."


End file.
